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© 2006, Chandra
Knight Reviews For THE WITCH CHRONICLES: DREAMSPELL by Chandra Knight "Chandra Knight tempts readers with the first installment of what promises to be a highly erotic, imaginative series. The Witch Chronicles Book 1: Dreamspell has all the elements of a good story. There is passion, suspense, revenge, and the promise that this is just the beginning…The premise of the story is original and the telling unique." Fallen Angel Reviews Reviewed by Amanda 5 Angels "This tale of dreams, witches, power and sex will grab your attention and quickly draw you in. Beginning with the unusual evening encounters between Mena and Keiran, the background of Dreamspell is interesting and different. Mena is a powerful witch who does not understand her heritage. She has an idea that she may have abilities but shrugs them off as intuition or a quirk. When she finally meets Keiran, she again tries to convince herself that it’s a coincidence but the charismatic and powerful man won’t allow her to. His feelings are engaged and he will not stop until she and her father are safe. The connection that they feel is intense and leads Mena on a path she never believed she would travel. Their sexual encounters also follow the intensity of the situation that they find themselves in and definitely satisfy. I enjoyed this quick read and look forward to more in the series. The possibilities are endless and fascinating." Trang Black, Just Erotic Romance Reviews 4 Stars Heat Rating H Four
and a half Blue Ribbons from Romance Junkies
I loved this book. It has all the ingredients of a great story. She is a feisty heroine and a hero who loves her and a dark secret who could destroy them all. The love between Mena and Keiran is explosive to watch unfold. They know each other … yet they don’t. The evil that seeks to destroy them all is dark and mysterious and we get a good taste of just how bad it can be. This is book one and I look forward to the sequel. I recommend this book. Dreamspell is mystical and a joy to read...I found Dreamspell to be an enchanting story that will pull you in and hold you tight. The passion and desire are there when Mena and Keiran get together. I would say give this one a try and I think you’ll love it. Sample Chapter For THE WITCH CHRONICLES: DREAMSPELL by Chandra Knight Come to me. The words washed over Mena with an urgency that set her heart pounding in a panic. Who are you? She shot the question into the ether, searching out the source of the commanding male presence that had taken over her dream, once again. I need you. Where are you? Mena’s question hovered at the edges of her mind. No answer. I want to help, but…a feeling of extreme warmth and protectiveness flooded her, swirling around her and drawing her upward. She was drifting above her own sleeping form. She struggled with the fear that invaded her mind. No! I can’t… The vortex that whispered like the wind released her, and she settled gently back into her body. When? the wind murmured. There’s no time to waste. A touch like that of a cherished lover flowed over her, causing her heart to ache for something unknown. Mena. A sudden, new cold engulfed her, causing an icy shiver to shoot through her. You’ll obey me! Get out! The earlier soft, warm wind howled around her in anger. Complete and utter terror took control. Mena’s subconscious grasped the warmth of her nightly visitor, and he pulled her back to full awareness, allowing blessed escape from the very lucid dream. She awoke to the quiet gray of dawn and the soft hooting of an owl, perched in the old chestnut tree directly outside her window. The gentle sound worked to soothe her, as she slipped easily back into sleep. Chapter 1 Mena reached far into the center of the garden and grasped the offending weed. She pulled slightly on the heavy foliage and met resistance. The rich soil was obviously too good to leave behind. She leaned further into her grip and yanked with all her strength. The plant suddenly pulled free and she went sailing backwards, landing with a thud in the garden across the used brick pathway. A disgusted yowl erupted as she settled momentarily into the catmint that surrounded her. She shot a look at the black and white cat where he sat watching her with what she swore was amusement on his feline face. “Oh, shut up, Rory. I’m getting out of your precious plants.” The cat blinked his caramel-colored eyes at her and watched as she crawled out of the flowerbed and dusted herself off. She still clutched the mangled weed in her right hand, so she tossed it into her wooden bucket, then plopped onto a nearby cast iron bench, shoving her heavy hair off her neck. She really should have put it up. The previously temperate autumn day was quickly becoming a very warm one for Indian summer, very unusual for late October! Mena surveyed her handiwork. Nearly done. The garden was pristine once again, the late fall weeds she’d pulled trailing in a bedraggled mass from her pail. She loved her garden. The riot of color, even this late in the season, soothed her and fed every corner of her soul. As she admired the calm beauty around her, a soft breeze lifted a tendril of damp hair and feathered it across her cheek in a soft caress. Immediately, she was reminded of her dream from the night before, the latest of many recent encounters; of the warm wind that had engulfed her and swept her upwards into what felt like a protective embrace. The dream had left her with a feeling of disquiet. The ones she’d been having for the last few months were different from the many others she’d experienced her entire life. Those had given her a feeling of protection as well—a benign protection—like being safe in the embrace of a loving parent. Lately, things had been different. Very different. The protective feeling that would wash over her was more like that of a possessive lover. A lover attempting to bind her to him, to keep her from harm. And last night, he’d said he needed her. He wanted something from her. There’s no time to waste. The whispered words echoed in her thoughts. A chill raced up her spine as she recalled the icy breath that had invaded her dream world just before she woke up. The whole damn thing troubled her! Once again, she silently cursed the gift that had dogged her footsteps her whole life, refusing to let her live in the quiet, ordered way she desired. She felt the gentle pat of a furry paw on her cheek, and it drew her out of the place she’d been about to fall into. The place of many dreams. Dreams that haunted her sleeping—and then waking—hours. Dreams that tried to tell her things she refused to hear. Dreams that turned into daytime visions, insinuating themselves into her daily thoughts. She heard the soft meow behind her, where Rory was perched on the wide back of the elaborate bench. She turned around and scooped the small cat into her arms, hugging him to her and rubbing the soft black and white fur against her face. His purring engine revved into high gear. “Thanks, Rory.” She kissed the tip of the cat’s nose and tickled him on the soul patch under his chin before cuddling him closer. “I really didn’t want to go to that place today.” She smoothed her hand over the unusual black and white markings of the feline. Rory was short for Rorschach, named after the famous inkblots tests, because that’s exactly what he looked like. Like someone had taken his little cat-suit, splattered it with ink, then folded it in half before clothing him in the soft fur. It amused her every time she looked at it. The cat seemed to tolerate her amusement well. As a tiny kitten, he’d appeared out of nowhere one day in early springtime, made himself comfortable on her porch and stayed. She welcomed him. Obviously, he was meant to be there. She accepted the fact that most things happened for a reason, despite her refusal to embrace her visionary gift. That she wasn’t ready to accept yet! The sun was getting higher, and hotter, in the sky. Mena pulled herself to her feet and set Rory down on the bench. Time to get back to the weeds. Francis Reilly was angry. Even with the weakening of his once strong body—the result of the draining of his considerable powers—his anger still caused the sky outside to darken, just like the clouds that gathered on his face. He could feel the strong emotion wearing him down even further though, so he struggled to rein it in. Besides, the tall man who stood defiantly in front of him had only his best interests at heart. He took a deep breath. “Keiran, I ordered you not to look for her. Not to contact her!” His thready voice rose on the last words. “How long have you been visiting her?” He studied the shuttered face of Keiran Donovan, his right-hand man, best friend…and so much more. They had a fast friendship, despite their age difference. He turned away and paced across the room with labored movements, trying to walk off the anger—and the fear. Francis was pissed all right. Francis never called him Keiran unless really ticked. There was no way he was going to tell Francis that he’d been going to Mena in her dreams for months. He’d have his head on a platter! But they needed help, and Philomena Blys was their best chance, whether Francis wanted to admit it or not. Besides, she needed them too. “Francis.” Keir followed his mentor and touched his arm lightly. “I felt him there.” As he said it, a chill ran through him. Had their nemesis found Philomena through his own rash actions? Had he taken one too many chances by travelling on the astral plane to Mena last night? A tiny feeling of guilt nagged at him. Had the evil one followed him? Maybe Francis had a point after all. The gathering clouds darkened further, as Keir’s own anger rose. “What?” Francis snapped. A crack of thunder sounded overhead, and both men glanced at the huge windows that lined one entire wall of the room. Well, he’d gone and done it now. He couldn’t leave her alone, like he’d promised himself he would, after last night. He’d felt her mind-numbing fear, even as she’d risen from her quietly sleeping form and wafted into his welcoming embrace. Blood surged to his groin and he groaned silently at his body’s immediate reaction to just thinking about Mena. He could feel her soft, sexy curves in his arms still, as if it had been a physical thing. She was the one he’d been waiting for…but she wasn’t ready to embrace what—and who—she was. Not yet. Could he help her change that? And could he protect her at the same time? “Keiran!” Francis’ harsh exclamation called him back to the here and now. “Did he follow you there?” He voiced Keir’s earlier worry. Keir tried to drag his mind away from thoughts of the sexy woman he’d connected with the night before and shoved his hand through his hair in aggravation before confessing. “I think he might have.” “Fuck!” the older man roared, gathering all his strength. His shoulder-length, black hair, streaked liberally with gray, crackled with energy and his green eyes took on an eerie glow. His sentiments exactly! Keir shook his head in self-disgust. What had he been thinking? His anger at himself rose as he thought of Mena, blissfully unaware and possibly—no, certainly—now in danger. Because of him! “I’m sorry, Francis.” The next words were pulled from him. “In my hurry to get to Mena, I left a door open.” He chastised himself mentally, cursing his own carelessness. The fatigue of constant battle was starting to wear on him as well. Still, it had been a beginner’s mistake. And something he rarely did, but… “I thought I was protected well enough. He’s getting stronger, Francis, and better at cloaking himself.” Keir’s anger was edged with a sense of urgency that raced up his spine. As it did, a streak of lightning stabbed the now nearly black sky. The mounting darkness had even fooled a stray owl into thinking it was night. It swished past the window, wings extended, silent in full flight. The midmorning storm was an anomaly. It had come out of nowhere, and was probably a surprise to the average person. Both Keir and Francis knew exactly where it had come from, and as the elements howled and crashed around them, both men attempted to stifle their tempers. It was doing them no good, and the fall weather had been wet enough. With the combined thoughts of the two, the storm calmed. The room lightened up as the dark clouds began to dissipate. Keir heaved a sigh. Dark hair and gray eyes in a soft, appealing feminine face burned in his memory. What had he gotten himself—and Mena—into? “Okay, Francis, I fucked up.” His mentor nodded his agreement, but was silent. The sun found a crack in the thinning clouds and peeked through. “So, what the hell do I do now?” “You’ll have to go to her again, Keir.” Francis uttered the words reluctantly. Keir knew it was because he regretted having to drag Philomena into their mess. But it was too late. The damage was done, thanks to him. Now he had to undo it. No matter what it cost him. |